Spreading the gospel according to Tunnocks of Uddingston,Scotland; creators of the finest confection/biscuit known to mankind.
Currently kebabless, rootless and temporarily boozeless.

Saturday, May 17, 2008

"What hurt you into poetry"?

I think my first inklings of the poetic occured when I lifted a stone and an earwig scurried blindly towards safety, his dark sanctuary violated in an uncouth and violent fashion. That and the sea anemone at the bottom of a rock pool, inhaling and exhaling rythmically.

I like poetry because it can interrogate the everyday; see the significance in a callous, question a glib gesture, take pleasure in a well baked loaf. It is a function of intelligence, but is also rooted in an ache below the left nipple and always pays due heed to the musicality of which the tongue on the roof of the mouth is capable.